


Time of Our Lives

by Ellitheria



Series: Nowhere Else to Go [2]
Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: "Nowhere Else to Go" Universe, Angst, Cannon Divergence after The Deer Hunter, F/M, Family, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, I promise, Really it's very sad, Song fic, but it's good!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 17:46:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3538442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellitheria/pseuds/Ellitheria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Set in the Nowhere Else to Go Universe)</p><p>"Keen, people like us, we don’t get kids. Maybe we get to have a husband or a wife. Preferably someone we can talk to about our jobs - someone with clearance. But never kids."</p><p>When their baby is born (perfect, ten fingers and ten toes, a baby boy), it’s the worst day of her life. She knows that they have to give him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time of Our Lives

So take the photographs  
and still frames in your mind.  
Hang them on a shelf  
In good health and good times  
Tattoos and memories  
and dead skin on trial.  
For what it's worth,  
it was worth all the while.  
  
It's something unpredictable  
but in the end it's right.  
I hope you had the time of your life.

-Time of Your Life (Green Day)

* * *

Time of Our Lives 

 

When their baby is born (perfect, ten fingers and ten toes, a baby boy), it’s the worst day of her life.

 

Worse than the day Raymond Reddington walked into her life, worse than when Tom was stabbed, worse than when Tom _left_ her, _betrayed_ her. Worse than the day she had to kill her ex-husband. Worse than the day she almost lost her partner (lover, current husband, there are many words to describe the man faithfully by her side now). Worse than the day she realized she was two months late for her period (time has a way of getting away from you when you work with the aforementioned Raymond Reddington) and worse than the day when the two subtle pink lines showed up on the pregnancy test.

 

Worse than the entire night that Donald Ressler held her as she cried, in anguish over her pregnancy because she knew they couldn’t keep the baby.

 

Worse than the  next seven months. Seven months that were spent in constant turmoil.

 

_Can we make it work?_

_Could we stop doing the job we do to keep our baby safe?_

_Would he be safe, even if we quit?_

 

In the end, the decision was made for them as Donald spent two months in the hospital, and Liz two weeks. Liz had been taken, seven months pregnant, from their home, and tortured. Ressler had come to her rescue, of course, but had taken a bullet in the shoulder and one in the stomach for his efforts. (It had been touch and go for a while, Liz had been afraid she would lose him, too.)

 

_“How can  we live with ourselves, if we keep the baby and he dies because someone on Red’s blacklist wants information? You know as well as I do, Liz, that killing a baby to get what they need will not deter these monsters.”_

 

She’d sat by his bedside for days (three of them, before Reddington physically hauled her home to sleep and shower) thinking over his words.

 

He was right.

 

They had to give their baby up.

 

It had been an accident, the pregnancy. It wasn’t something they’d planned. _We don’t get to have kids_ , Ressler had told her once, when he’d been in anguish from losing his first child.

 

“The adoption,” she whispered now, unable to tear her eyes from her baby. (Perfect whisps of blond hair, electric blue eyes - he looked just like his daddy). “It has to be one hundred percent closed. _No one_ can know who his parents are.”

 

She’s crying, she can barely speak through the tears that pour from her anguished eyes, but this is _important._ He has to know, to get it right.

 

“Our names can’t be on anything. Nothing.”

 

“Yes, Lizzie, I understand.”

 

He’s being so patient with her. (He’s crying a little bit, too, if he’s honest with himself. He tries not to let the grieving parents notice the lone tear that slips from his eye - they don’t need anything else added to their pain). “No one will know. The agency is dealing with it. Fake names are being put on his birth certificate, and a third party will be used to deliver the baby to his new parents. I have Dembe running our own background checks on them, but they’re going to be perfect, Lizzie. They’re going to love your baby.”

 

Reddington knew this was going to tear them apart. (He’s lost his own daughter at a young age, had to give her up, too, to protect her. Had given her to his best friend, changed her name, and didn’t see her for 25 years. He knew what they were feeling).

 

“Red,” Ressler whispered, running his fingertips over the cheek of his newborn son. He was crying, too, try as he might to hold the tears back, to be strong for Liz. “A word? Outside.”

 

Reddington nodded, placing his fedora back on his head as he walked to the door. Ressler followed him after offering Liz a watery smile and a quick squeeze of her hand. She barely noticed - she was too enthralled by her baby boy, trying to desperately to memorize his face, his hair, the way his tiny fist beat against her chest as he wiggled around in her arms.

 

“How are you doing, Donald?” Red asks, concern lacing his words as the younger man hastily brushes away his tears.

 

“How am I _doing_?” he asks, incredulous. Reddington winces. _Stupid question._ “Whatever. I need you to do something for me, and Liz cannot know.”

 

Reddington nods, willing. “Anything. Tell me what you need.”

 

“You tracked Liz her entire life without her knowing, without Sam knowing, and without anyone on your fucking list knowing.”

 

Red opens his mouth to issue his blanket denial (I’m not her father, I did no such thing, etc.) but Ressler holds up a hand to stop him.

 

“I don’t care what you’re about to say. We both know it’s true.”

 

“Assuming it is - which it’s not - what does this have to do with anything?”

 

Ressler shuffles from one foot to the other. “I need you to watch the baby. I know you said the adoptive couple is perfect, but shit happens. Divorce, abuse - I need to know our baby is loved. Always. You can do that. Get Dembe or one of your other minions, and have them watch our baby. I don’t want to know anything - nothing they can torture out of me. Location, name, school, grades, hell, I don’t even want to know if he has any brothers or sisters. _Nothing_. But I want to know he’s safe, cared for, and loved.”

 

He’s staring at Reddington as if he’s willing him to disagree, to fight him (because Donald has never been good at dealing with emotions, he really wants to hit something right now, and Reddington would be as good a target as any).

 

“I can do that,” Reddington finally agrees after much consideration. He thought he was done with this game - surveillance, the weekly reports, the pain of knowing but not getting to _see_ , to _experience_ the life his child was living. And now he was going to do it all over again with a grandchild. But he can deny the grieving couple nothing, so he agrees, and begins planning immediately. A neighbor, a babysitter, hell, the mailman will do. Someone he can hire onto his payroll to keep an eye on and update him on the baby.

 

“If anything goes wrong, if they divorce, if the dad gets violent, if he’s being bullied - anything. I will need it to stop, no matter what you have to do.”

 

Reddington nods again, and then Ressler looks uncomfortable.

 

“Liz can’t know.”

 

“I agree.”

 

“Ever.”

 

It’s both a promise and a threat, and as Reddington nods again, Ressler walks back into this hospital room to spend a precious few more minutes with his child.

 

Reddington watches through the glass as the younger man climbs into the bed next to Liz, as they hold their son together, and cry.

 

They have ten minutes to imagine an entire life with their child. First words, first steps, first tooth. First day of school, first crush, learning to drive, getting married, having grandchildren. Sharing goodnight stories with their perfect baby, exhaustively laying in their bed with a toddler at two in the morning, sharing smiles over his downy head as they try to get as many minutes of sleep as possible. Even the inevitable baby sickness that plagues every parent. The first frantic fever, throw up covering the sheets, worrying yourself to death as the baby’s body grows warmer than seems possible. The relief when the fever breaks, and the baby sleeps through the night again.

 

They will miss _all of it._

 

As the nurse comes to take baby Ressler away, Reddington has to turn and walk away.

 

He can’t bare to see the look in Liz and Donald’s eyes as they kiss their baby for the last time, as they touch his warm skin once more, as they hear his last cry.

 

_Broken._

 

They will never be the same again.

**Author's Note:**

> OMG what's wrong with me. I kept thinking, and thinking, and thinking about the comment I had Ressler saying in chapter 3 of Nowhere Else to Go - "We don't get to have kids". Which hurts me on the inside, because I love a good family fic. HOWEVER, this wouldn't leave me alone and I had to write the "what it".
> 
> *No, I'm not crying as I type this. :\
> 
> Please review and let me know what you think!!!


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